Saving a Life
by RoseFyre
Summary: For Effie Trinket, sometimes it helps to be able to keep something alive. Even if it's just a plant.


It's a quiet Thursday, only two weeks before the 62nd Hunger Games, when Effie gets the call she's been waiting her whole life for.

An escort!

She's going to be an escort!

Unfortunately, the reason there's an opening is because Quintina Brewington decided she simply cannot deal with Haymitch Abernathy anymore. So Effie will be working with District Twelve. It's not her first choice of districts. In fact, it's her last.

Still.

It's her first choice of jobs; she can cope with a less than ideal district.

Effie puts her best face forward and boards the train two days before the Games, ready to turn District Twelve into a winning district. She's certain she can make Haymitch Abernathy into a proper mentor and get a tribute through; provided, of course, she chooses the right child. It can't be that hard, after all.

District Twelve is nothing like what she expected. It's so... dingy. Dirty. It looks much nicer on television.

Haymitch Abernathy is also worse than she expected.

His first words to her are "Who the hell are you?" Once she introduces herself, he looks her up and down, his eyes lingering on her wig, her makeup, and her shoes. "Prepare to fail, Princess." He takes a swig from a flask. His breath smells of alcohol.

She wrinkles her nose at the scent. "Must you?"

He shakes his head. "You'll learn. District Twelve ain't gonna have a Victor this year or any other."

"I'm quite sure you're wrong, Mr. Abernathy. It's been twelve years since your victory. That just means we're due for another one!"

He stares at her for a moment. Then he downs another gulp of the vile liquid. "Yeah. Right. You keep believin' that, Princess. Still ain't gonna happen."

Effie doesn't believe him, but when she pulls the names of an emaciated twelve year old boy and a fifteen year old girl who's actually smaller than the boy, she starts to have doubts.

No one volunteers.

Her tributes have no skills. She does her best, but she has no idea how to survive in an Arena. And no matter how much she chides him, Haymitch is utterly useless.

Both Janie and Richie die during the bloodbath. Effie blinks rapidly at the screen, refusing to let the tears fall.

"Told you so, Princess," Haymitch says from the seat next to her, a half-empty bottle dangling from one hand. He gulps the alcohol, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "Least it was quick. Last year..." He trails off, shaking his head.

"Pardon me, I have to go... do. Something." She stands up, slightly shaky, nodding at the other escorts and Victors in the room, then leaves.

The Games aren't over. They won't be done for at least a week. But for Effie, they are. Her district has failed.

She walks home in a daze. It's a long walk, but there aren't any cabs available, not on the first day of the Games. And she doesn't really want to take one anyway.

There are so many screens on the walk, screens she never noticed because they're just a part of life in the Capitol. But now she sees them. She sees every death as it happens, every cut, every fight. She sees the Careers gather around the Cornucopia while the other tributes run into the desert, most with no supplies. They'll die soon; this Arena has little water.

When she's about three quarters of the way home, Effie stumbles on an outdoor market, one she's never been to before. They have the Games playing on a big screen, but the vendors are busy selling all sorts of things. She spots jewelry, clothing, toys, various crafts, even a Games merchant selling sponsorships.

"Pretty flower for a pretty lady?"

Effie starts at the question, looking over at one of the vendors, this one selling all sorts of flowers and plants.

His flowers are beautiful, but for once they're not what Effie wants. She passes by all the brilliant colors and beautiful scents and picks up a small green plant, its leaves plain and unadorned, no buds peeking out.

"How much?" she asks.

He blinks at her, but names a price. It's not very much.

She walks the rest of the way home clutching her new plant. When she arrives, she lets herself into her apartment.

It's silent.

She places the plant on a shelf near one of her windows and pours a small glass of water into its pot. Then she sits and stares at it for a few minutes that turn into a few hours.

She's not certain why, but it helps with the confused feelings in her gut. "Thank you," she whispers, stroking its leaves once more before she finally heads to bed.

She sits with it throughout the Games and when the Victor, a beautiful blond from District One, is crowned. As a low-level escort to a losing district, Effie does not have a ticket to the ceremony. While she can watch on one of the big screens, she doesn't feel like there's much of a point. She'll be just another face in the crowd. She doesn't want to be seen as a status climber, so forcing her way in is out of the question, and likely wouldn't get her anywhere anyway.

No, if she can't be at the ceremony itself with a proper seat deserving of her status, she won't go at all.

Surprisingly, she doesn't really mind missing it. She's glad to stay at home and watch with her plant.

The plant remains a constant in her life.

Effie's friends come and go. People move in and out of her building. Her tributes get Reaped and die. But her plant is always there. Well, her plant and Haymitch Abernathy, who gets drunker and more useless (which she didn't realize was even possible) as each year passes.

Every Games, when her tributes die, Effie spends more and more time sitting silently with her plant. It's the only thing that helps.

It takes her a long time to realize why the plant comforts her. When she does, it's striking.

At least she can keep this plant alive.

She can't help her tributes. She can't help their mentor.

But this plant? This one living thing, this she can save.

When it needs water, she gives it water. When it needs sun, she gives it sun. When it needs a new pot because it's grown too big, she takes it to be repotted. It is hers, and it is alive.

Twelve years pass with no District Twelve Victors, but through it all, Effie Trinket keeps her plant alive.

But then it's the 74th Games. And everything changes.

Her tributes return. Both of them return.

They've done it.

Effie and Haymitch have done it, for the first time. They've saved not just one child, but two. Now that they've set the precedent, they can repeat it in the future. Maybe not two children, but one. There will be other District Twelve Victors, especially now that they have two more mentors to help.

And for all that District Twelve is dirty and dingy, for all that its mentor is a drunk, it is her district. Maybe she won't push for a different district in the future. Can anyone ask for better than the results of these Games?

This year, after the Games and the Victory Ceremony are over, after she returns her tributes to District Twelve, she only spends half an hour sitting with her plant, and that's for the plant's sake, not hers. She knows she's being a bit silly, but she's quite certain it will miss her if she skips her time with it entirely.

Before she can get used to her new circumstances, it's time for the 75th Games.

And her tributes, her Victors, return to the Arena.

She's too busy trying to help them get out to spend time in her apartment, but she watered the plant before the Reaping and left the window shade open so it can get plenty of sun. It should be fine; it's survived this long before. But, just in case, she asked her neighbor to water it if the Games continue for more than a week.

They don't.

Instead, only two and a half days into the Games, the Arena goes dark.

Haymitch disappears.

And Effie is taken prisoner.

She gets through her ordeal by concentrating on her Victors, all three of them. She hopes they're fine, that they've escaped, that they've joined the rebellion she knows exists. She knows nothing else about the rebellion. She's told her guards a thousand times. They don't listen.

She hopes the rebellion succeeds.

And she also thinks about her plant. She hopes her neighbor has continued to water it, that it'll be there, waiting for her, when she finally leaves this place.

She will leave this place alive. There is no other option.

When she's finally released, she goes home. Her apartment is far enough from the main fighting that it's mostly intact. The façade is slightly damaged, but the building appears safe.

Her neighbors are gone. No one is left.

When she enters her apartment, she finds her plant, dead in its pot, its leaves turned brown and crinkly, most of them fallen off.

That's when she cries.

Effie cleans it up, carefully placing the dead leaves into a bag to discard later. As she starts to pull the stem up, she stops.

There. Poking out of the very bottom of the stem, just above the dirt, there's one tiny green leaf. It looks sickly, but it's alive.

With her hands shaking, Effie hastily removes the rest of the dead leaves. She cuts the stem above that one living leaf, then pours just a little water into the dirt.

She mustn't drown it. She'll give it more tomorrow, but not right now.

Despite everything, her plant has survived. A little mutilated, certainly injured, but alive.

Just like her Victors.

Just like her.


End file.
